


Awkward Lads

by Kestrealbird



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Humor, Mild Claustrophobia, Other, awkward crushes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 15:54:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15318951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kestrealbird/pseuds/Kestrealbird
Summary: This is absolutely, decidedly, one hundred percent, not his fault.





	Awkward Lads

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is old honestly so its p bad but I fixed it up a bit and I'm posting it just to get it outta the way. They cant all be great and thats cool ya know

Prompto would like to say that this is absolutely, decidedly, one hundred percent,  _ not his fault _ . And, okay, yes he  _ did _ get shot in the ankle because the life of a baby Garula had been more important to him than the MagiTech aiming a pistol at him, and yeah, he  _ did _ pretend that he was fine, really, Iggy, give that last potion to Noct he needs it more than me, but. 

Well how was he supposed to know that the ground was unstable and was going to give way underneath him? He hadn’t  _ meant _ to grab Gladio and drag the big guy down into the abyss with him, but when the earth suddenly disappears under your feet, your immediate instinct is to try and grab onto something to keep yourself from falling. 

He’d expected Gladio to be able to keep both of them balanced since he was, you know, built like a fucking brick house. So, yeah, entirely  _ not his fault _ that they were stuck down here together while Ignis and Noctis ran off to try and find something to pull them up. The worst part was that he’d landed awkwardly on his foot, and the only thing that stopped him from crying out in pain was the thought of making them worry by telling them that, no, he hadn’t just been scratched, haha, surprise he’d been shot instead!

Somehow he doubted it would help the situation. 

Noct had a habit of, for lack of a better phrase,  _ freaking the fuck out _ if they got injured, and he’d been in a real state that one time Ignis had sprained his wrist while slicing up some monster or another with his daggers. Ignis never worried, though, not unless the wounds were life-threatening, but he  _ hovered _ , which was a million times worse because it always made Prompto feel incredibly guilty. Even if he wasn’t the one injured. 

Gladio was the worst one, though, because he was an older brother, which meant he had highly protective instincts, but those instincts would sometimes show themselves through his own frustration, and he’d snap at them for being idiots. He didn’t mean to react like that, and he’d gotten better at controlling his own emotions over the years, but he always lived with the fear that he wouldn’t be there one day to save them, so seeing his friends injured tended to cause an explosive reaction in him.  

Gladio getting mad or frustrated wasn't the problem. The problem was that Prompto kinda-maybe-sorta had a thing for him, so when Gladio got frustrated his immediate thought process  _ tended _ to spiral into, um, interesting territory. 

Which was something he wanted to avoid doing right now, given that this big ass hole was  _ cramped _ and they were pressed close together, to the point that if Prompto wasn’t so nervous about Gladio discovering his not-so-innocent secret, then he’d most definitely be panicking about now. 

Oh wait, nope, scratch that.  _ There _ was that familiar - and very much unwanted - feeling of the walls closing in on him, slowly suffocating him and making it very hard to concentrate on anything. 

“Ah, G-Gladio,” he stuttered, fingers clenching the material of Gladio’s t-shirt, trying desperately to find anything to focus on. “It’s...getting a little harder to breathe here,” he laughed. Gladio cursed, looking around for  _ something _ . Not like anything would  _ help _ right now. 

Gladio pressed his hands against the wall, temporarily boxing Prompto in, and then pushed himself back, bending his knees to try and give Prompto more room. “Look at me,” he demanded, his voice low and hard to get Prompto’s attention. So Prompto looked, and amber eyes stared back, intense but gentle, and god he could easily get lost in those swirling colours. “I need you to take a breath for me, okay? As deep as you can.”

“Trying,” he whimpered. Gladio continued staring at him, silently urging him to try again. He took a shaky breath, held it for a few seconds, let it out, then repeated the process a couple more times while Gladio murmured reassurances. 

His mind strayed to the first time the guys had found out about his claustrophobia, back when he and Noct had still been in high school. It had been exceptionally bad, back then, and he avoided going on public transport or in cars as much as possible, which, naturally, hadn’t escaped their notice. He hadn’t been scared about telling them, just nervous was all. 

Once he’d told them about it, Noctis had laughed, relieved, and said that this was a much better reason than the traumatic backstory he’d made up in his head. Which was worrying but Noctis was Noctis so. Ignis had just been glad that Prompto’s refusal to be dropped off at home wasn’t because the man had offended him in any way, and Gladio had grinned, teasing him about it goodnaturedly. 

He’d had a thing for Gladio back then, too, so when the big guy had turned up on his doorstep with a motorbike and offered him a ride, well, Prompto was pretty sure a good thirty percent of his soul had passed on to the other side, and he could never quite forget what it felt like to cling to Gladio’s waist. All that muscle moving and flexing beneath his hands, the sheer size difference between them even with the lifts in his shoes. 

He was a goner, plain and simple. 

Noctis was the only one who knew, and he’d tried, a few times, to get Prompto to confess, but, well, his anxiety wouldn’t let him, so Noctis stopped trying and instead became a silent support. 

The distraction worked, and he slumped against the wall, closing his eyes to calm his racing heart, then immediately made the mistake of whimpering when he put pressure on his foot. 

“...that’s not a scratch is it?” He froze, carefully opening his eyes to look down, and saw blood seeping through his bandages. Fuck. “Prompto,” Gladio said, slowly, “what  _ actually _ happened?” His eyes were narrow, jaw tense and fuck he looked too handsome in this lighting why did he ever leave his camera in the car, he really wanted to get a picture right now. 

“Um.” Welp. Goodbye to his communication skills. Again. 

Gladio took a breath, then looked down, analyzing the damage he could see and Prompto squirmed, flustered at the intense attention. He knew it didn’t mean anything, but that couldn’t stop him from wanting to see it that way. 

“I was shot!” He blurted, wincing at his own bluntness. Gladio’s head snapped up, staring at him in shock. “There was a baby Garula and I couldn’t just let it  _ die _ , so I ended up shooting at its feet to get it to run, but I got shot with a pistol instead and-” he was rambling again, voice rushed and arms making grand gestures to get his point across. Gladio grabbed his hands, effectively making Prompto shut up, his mouth closing with a clack of teeth. 

“And you didn’t say anything because…?” He didn’t sound mad just...concerned.

Prompto ducked his head, blushing. “I didn’t want you to worry,” he mumbled.

“And how is that working?” 

“...Sorry.”

Gladio, for his part, didn’t let his frustration take over, instead taking a calming breath and cursing himself for not noticing sooner. Some shield he was turning out to be recently. Looking down at the damage, he held back a wince, quickly deciding that he had to get weight off of that foot somehow. 

Which was easier said than done given their current situation, but he’d dealt with worse. Kinda. Sorta. 

Oh god Ignis was going to  _ hover _ and  _ fret _ if he didn’t help Prompto cover this up. Distantly, he picked up what sounded like Noctis letting out a sound of victory. Hopefully he wouldn't immediately warp over here, which would give Gladio time to help Prompto and-

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Swallowing, he took it out and saw a text from Ignis. 

>We’ll be there shortly. Just tying the rope together.

Okay then. Forget thinking things through. He’ll just have to wing it - go by instinct. Simple enough.

Apparently that instinct meant sticking his thigh between Prompto’s legs and lifting him up, making him squeal and grip the leather of Gladio’s trousers with his nails. Wonderful plan, instincts. Never asking you for help again.

Prompto looked up at him with wide eyes and a deep flush on his cheeks that made his freckles glow in the darkness. Gladio swallowed. “It’s only weird if you make it weird.”

Prompto’s voice strained when he spoke. “This was your first idea!?”

“It was instinct!”

“What kind of instincts do you have!?”

Gladio shrugged, helplessly. “Ones that help me get laid, I guess!”

Silence. Shit. 

Prompto’s face bloomed with colour. Above them, Noctis lowered the rope with a barely concealed snicker. “I can't wait to hear the full story guys!”

Gladio decided, then and there, that he was going to kill the Prince and not feel the slightest bit guilty about it.


End file.
